


Immortality Is Overrated

by MurderInk



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcoholic Tony Stark, Blood Drinking, Blood Magic, Depression, Eventual Smut, F/M, Grumpy Tony Stark, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good, Immortality, Immortals in Space, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Feels, Loki Has Issues, M/M, Magic, Odin's A+ Parenting, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tony Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has Issues, Vampires, Why Did I Write This?, Why is the Rum Gone?, slight coffee shop au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 21:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11518179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurderInk/pseuds/MurderInk
Summary: I didn't want to become immortal. If anything, I was a suicidal bastard who eagerly waited for his last day. Ironically, I am also the bastard who discovered the secret of life and now cannot die. There's nothing I haven't tried- bullets, poisons, jumping off buildings, cliffs, hanging- you name it. But I am still here.I am genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist last but not least, immortal. I am Tony Stark.orIn which Tony discovers the secret to eternal life by accident and Loki is a vampire up to no good.





	Immortality Is Overrated

**Author's Note:**

> The Beginning. A.k.a. Loki may be lowkey stalking Tony and Tony doesn't know it. Also, Grumpy Tony, Bored Tony. Depressed Tony.

**PROLOGUE**

"Scientists appear most often in horror movies. Through childlike curiosity or God-defying hubris, they unleash destructive forces they can't control." -Virginia Postrel

~.~

__________________________________

_It was an accident; honestly, I never intended for it to happen._

_Mankind had always been searching for a way to put an end to mortality. Philosopher's Stone, The Elixir of Life, Fountain of Youth, hell even deals with demons and vampires; all these are nothing but man's desperate wish to be immortal. None of them are true. There are no demons, no angels, and no pale vampires living on since the birth of mankind, no miraculous stone nor drink._

_I didn't want to become immortal. If anything, I was a suicidal bastard who eagerly waited for his last day. Sometimes so much that I'd engage in all kinds of unsavoury works without giving a damn if I managed to get out alive or not. Ironically, I am also the bastard who discovered the secret of life and now cannot die. There's nothing I haven't tried- bullets, poisons, jumping off buildings, cliffs, hanging- you name it._

_But I am still here. And two hundred years or so have passed and no amount of research can unmake whatever is keeping me from decaying like the rest of the world. The world, speaking of it, is unaware of my unfortunate accident._

_My few friends are dead. Family never really bothered to care about me anyway. But I've got myself and science. I am billionaire, genius, philanthropist, playboy, last but not least, immortal. I am Tony Stark._

~.~

_______________________________________

**PART I**

**THE COFFEE SHOP**

Autumn, 2015.

The streets of New York are the same old chaotic mess; men and women alike hurrying up and down the street, usually dressed in relatively sombre attires forever carrying bags and coffee in carton cups, yellow taxis honking every now and then like an ill-created symphony, while drivers throw a string of curses with angered expressions but life moves on anyway and their meaningless chatter is lost somewhere between the busy crowd and the angry stares. Tourists here and there with their bulky cameras most of which don’t even know how to properly operate them or even frame a decent image but hey customer era and all that, photographers that know or not what they're doing whether it’s because no amount of caffeine can make them see straight anymore after last night’s editing session or simply because their mind is somewhere else, couples old and young, sad people, happy people, homeless people- there's a bit of everything scattered across the seemingly never-ending streets of New York City.

Fragrances and terrible smells alike float in the air, vibrantly coloured trees and people and depressed walls and people, stray cats and hungry children- they're all over.

Every day is the same. Maybe in a different way, but the same nonetheless. If you look at it from above, from behind the window, you see happy faces, sad faces, rushed faces every day. Does it even matter that they belong to different people? Does it even matter if they are regulars? They come and go, bloom and wither away like cherry blossoms in the spring.

It matters. To them, I mean. Life matters. Every day matters when you've only got a limited life span and you want to do everything and own the world. But take that out of the equation and you find yourself uncaring and cold. No matter how much the world changes, it's all the same. People never really change throughout generations.

~.~

As soon as I push the door open, the strong smell of coffee welcomes me as well as a pair of blue eyes behind the counter of Le Chat Noir, a small café in the corner of the Ninth Ave. Its rival, Ninth Street Espresso is stealing most of the clientele for some reason, but I enjoy sitting in the almost empty café that miraculously survives along the years.

Blair, the girl with blue eyes and sweet smile, nods her head at me as soon as I make it through the door. I am an irregular regular at Le Chat Noir, and by this I mean that I don't come as often as I probably should, but still make my apparition just enough to be recognized by the staff. Well, not that I am a nobody, but... you know what I mean.

"A caramel cappuccino, sweetheart," I tell her as soon as I am in front of her and she nods smiling.

"Vanilla topping, sir?" she asks, polite as always.

I grin and take off my shades, elbow resting on the counter. "Tony. Call me Tony. And yes, vanilla topping would be lovely."

She smiles again and proceeds to take the money. As usual, she tries to refuse my paying more than necessary, but just as usual, I refuse to let her deny it. You'd think she'd learned by now that I would do that.

"It will be ready in a moment," she says and I nod.

I like Blair. She is a nice woman. Probably the type of woman who has a cat just because she found it on the street and couldn't leave it in the rain. That calls her mother every week to reassure that life in the City is alright. That puts up with her friend every time said friend gets dumped, but knows when to call bullshit on her friends as well.

"Here's your order, si-...I mean, Tony. Please enjoy." She places the steaming hot mug on a plate with her usual polite smile and I smile back, taking it from the counter.

"Thank you, Blair, you saved my life," I tell her jokingly as I head to my usual spot which is, ironically, by the window. She chuckles, but says nothing.

I am not a window person. Nor am I a corner person. Sometimes, I enjoy the privacy the farthest spot can offer, other times I'd rather watch the world unfold from behind the large, safe windows.

~.~

It's getting colder outside. October's already here and trees are changing shades of warm colours as if to compensate for the grey skies that have been threatening New York City for a while now. There's pressure in the air, maybe because of the upcoming rain that refuses to come faster or maybe because I am getting old and paranoid. It's hard to tell at times which is which.

Pepper, sweet Pepper, would sometimes shake her head in disapproval at my long pauses of silence that somehow are becoming a habit lately. What's wrong? She'd ask. Nothing. I'd lie and then proceed to watch the world from my tower. She knows, always knows, that I am lying. She is smart like that. But then, I could never tell her the truth.

As clever as she might be, she could never comprehend how she has been working for an immortal man all the time and she didn't even notice.

The door opens and the soft chime of the entrance bell hums through the air. Unconsciously, I turn to look at the new-comer and for some reason I feel like whoever it is, they invaded my personal space and they need to go away. Hopefully, it won't be a young woman desperate for company or anyone begging for my attention.

But it isn't. Instead, I am met by a pair of two of the greenest eyes I have seen in my many years of existence; two gems of raw emotion contrasted by ungodly pale skin and the darkest, most carefully slicked back locks. The exchange is short. I see him, he sees me, and before I know it he turns his back at me to buy his coffee and I turn my gaze to the chaos outside.

Only that my efforts to ignore the new presence are useless, because soon, his voice pierces through the still, aromatic air like a violin. Only silkier.

"Black coffee, please." Simple, concrete little words. It would have sounded rude, if it weren't for his smooth voice and gentlemanly appearance.

Blair's cheeks turn a soft shade of pink as she nods. In all honesty, I don't even blame her. This man could make anyone blush, if he really wanted to. _I_  am almost blushing and Tony Stark never blushes. But yet again, I refuse to mind his presence and return to my cup of coffee. Tony Stark doesn't care either. Or so the newspapers claim. I agree with them to some extent.

I lose myself in thought and before I even know it, the stranger's gone, although his presence somehow lingers in the café.

Whatever.

~.~

"Tony? Tony? Tony!" annoyed, Pepper calls from the other room.

I hum in acknowledgement before she stomps in the room, high heels on and hands resting on her hips demandingly. Ah, she looks pissed off. Again. For some reason it's been happening a lot lately.

"Tony Stark, may I know what in the blue hell is bothering your wonderful, but sometimes incredibly stupid mind?" she demands and I can't help but raise an eyebrow at her.

She does this sometimes. She'd ask me to explain myself without really telling me what exactly I have done wrong. I came to the conclusion that it's a thing I’ll never understand. However, that doesn't stop her from being downright scary.

"Did you really have to sleep with twelve women last night?"

Ah, that. I can already feel my facial muscles relaxing and myself losing interest whatsoever. She can as well and apparently this bit of information does not please her, to say the very least.

"It's not my fault they were hot." I shrugged. This isn't the first time we're having a conversation like this. Why she even bothers anymore is beyond my understanding.

She huffs and her arms flail exasperatedly in the air. "But twelve?! Do you have to appear on the papers every goddamn Monday while accompanied by this kind of news? Do you enjoy reading this type of articles, Mr. Stark, so much that it has to happen every God forsaken week?"

"It's not my fault people have nothing better to write about. Don't blame me for their lack of imagination. And let's be honest now. I am hot. Of course they're always following me." I pause. "And it's Tony."

She grimaces. "You're an irresponsible fool, Mr. Stark." And with that she drops the newspaper on the floor and leaves.

Peaking a glance at the discarded paper on the floor, I can see myself surrounded by a group of scantly clad women all drunk, including myself.

I regret nothing.

***

Days go on. Nights become lost in the touches of fake, mainly blonde strangers and Pepper never misses a chance to lecture me about it. Sometimes, I'd work in the lab to get away from her, but J.A.R.V.I.S. got cheeky and now she has access there. Sometimes the lab is not a safe place. This is why, after endless lectures about my nightly escapades, I find myself walking, not driving, to Le Chat Noir for a piece of quiet and a cup of good coffee.

Blair is not in today. A shame, I enjoyed her polite smiles. Rick, a nervous teenager who, my opinion, has a massive, hopeless crush on his colleague, Blair, greets me shyly from behind the counter. I grin at him, hoping that maybe one day he'll stop treating me as if I am an imposing character. Yeah, I've got money, but as Pepper kindly tells me daily, I am also childish so nothing to fear here.

Only that Rick doesn't take the hint.

"Chill, kid. I don't bite...much." My half-assed attempt at joking probably doesn't help either.

But anyway, soon I get my coffee and I retract to my spot, this time in the corner of the room. I am tired of the world today. I don't need to make up stories about strangers, I have the ones from the other day. And I lose myself in thought- not science related today because Pepper has been interrupting my science time too much to feel comfortable with thinking about science- when the door opens again and somehow, I feel the air shift, as well as the mood, if only slightly.

"Black coffee, please."

Tall, dark and mysterious, the green eyed man says in his velvety voice, as if he's practiced this all night and possibly all morning as well. Rick blushes different shades of crimson before the man and fumbles with the change, but in the end he hands the stranger his coffee. Not even once does he spare a glance in my direction and soon he is gone, coffee in hand and long dark coat following him as the door closes.

The air is still and the coffee shop seems, once again, empty all of a sudden.

~.~

Middle of October already.

It started raining this morning. Suddenly, I wish it didn't. The gloom in the air is almost palpable and the feeling that something is not quite right gets harder to ignore. Umbrellas, dozens of them, move on the even busier streets while traffic jams are getting worse, only that the shouts of the drivers are muffled by the rain.

Even Pepper is quieter, her constant nagging almost non-existent now. In the last four nights or days- I can't really tell anymore- I finished a new project and then fell asleep in the lab, on the floor. J.A.R.V.I.S. claims that he tried to wake me up, but I threatened to sell him to a college if he didn't shut up, so he left me alone. It does sound like something I'd say. Especially if I was tired.

Watching the city from above doesn't seem satisfying enough today. Looking at Pepper sulk at her desk doesn't feel right either. I might as well take a walk to Le Chat Noir. I don't bother to take an umbrella with me. It's not like I can catch a cold and die. To be honest, I can't even catch a cold- I tried injecting myself with various deadly viruses and the thing was out of my system under 24 hours while I experienced a mild fever for 5 hours tops. While I might ruin my clothes, I don't really care. I think I have enough money to buy new ones if I really want to.

Surprisingly, Le Chat Noir is packed by the time I reach there. Or maybe I shouldn't be surprised. People don't really like getting soaked. I seem to forget that. Blair, Ricky and the manager, Sophie, are all behind the counter today, frantically working on their drinks.

Sophie is the one to take my order. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Tony Stark in flesh and bones," she says, huge grin plastered on her face and I grin in return.

"My favourite manager!" I say and she rolls her eyes.

She is not the kind to be easily embarrassed. This woman could beat you with your own arm while grinning as if nothing happened. She doesn't take anyone's shit, but she knows how to be friendly. "What's it gonna be today?" she asks, ignoring me.

"The usual."

She nods and points at the only free table somewhere in the middle of the room, but still close to the window. It's her way of telling me to go sit there because she'll have the coffee sent to me. I know better than to argue with her, even if I don't really like having things handed to me.

On the round small table, there's a newspaper and since the window is a bit too far to be staring outside, I take it and start reading it, although only God knows how much I hate them. Or He'd know, if I believed He existed.

Blair places the coffee in front of me and I smile at her before she vanishes in the crowd. It tastes as good as I know it should and feeling satisfied with it, I turn my attention to a less savoury subject- namely the latest news about myself.

Humans never really get bored of gossip and it's always been like this. It's one of the things that never change. Their thirst for someone else's affairs or misery is insatiable and maybe unfortunately for me, I am a never ending spring of scandalous affairs. I still can’t bring myself to care though.

Whom I fuck or how many girls I fuck is the least concerning thing about me, but somehow this is where everyone stops. This and the number of alcoholic drinks I have per night. Sometimes, not too often, they talk about my latest discovery, but that's never as interesting, to them at least, as whom I bedded.

It's like they never grow up. They have a constant need to talk about sex, as if they never really got past their teenage years when all they'd think is sex and who got on with whom. Thank fuck I wasn't born in this age or I'd have to put up with all these stupid kids. Although thinking about it, Peter and Frank were always loud idiots who only talked about their strange sexual fantasies back in my day.

It's amazing what money can do. I bought my past. Literally. Because telling them the truth is out of question. I am Tony Stark, genius boy, but parentless until the age of 12 when a nice man decided to take me in and offer me a home. Sure, people dig my past every year, trying to find proof that I am lying, and every year I escape them. The world is unaware. Some might be questioning, but most of them are oblivious.

_Who believes in immortality these days anyway?_

I chuckle to myself. It's ironic really, that of all people to roam this Earth, I am the one that got stuck in a forty-something years old body forever. No one questions my age either. Although I made my appearance five years ago and claimed I was 35. I am supposed to be 40 now. It almost makes me burst into laughter. Life loves playing games on some people.

Someone clears their throat near me, but I don't truly acknowledge them. "Excuse me." They sense that and they try to politely get my attention so I give it to them, if only out of reflex. But there's green eyes again and my old heart almost stops. Not that it matters, because I can't die anyway, but still.

"Yes?" my voice is raspy and I try to clear my throat.

"May I sit with you? The café seems to be packed and I have forgotten my umbrella," he explains and indeed, taking a better look at his clothes, they are damp.

Straightening my back, I motion to the seat in front of me. "Sure. Of course. Why not?" Even to me, I sound uncomfortable and slightly nervous and the stranger smiles apologetically.

"Sorry to disturb." And he does sound like he is sorry. Like, if he had another option, he wouldn't be sitting across me. Not because he has something against me, no, but because he invaded my private space even if he didn't truly do that.

I wave a hand at him. "No worries." And return to my paper.

To say I feel uneasy, it's an understatement. And to be honest, it's hard to tell what exactly causes this. It might be his unusual appearance or the way he carries himself, with such grace he'd put many dancers to shame, or his voice, or that neat and calm accent. Or simply the way he stands out as a person. He's like a dark figure in the crowd, a smoky mystery of a man written in fancy cursive letters on old paper at the warm light of candles.

And I am not sure whether I should be fascinated or wary of his presence. There's something that's not quite right, but at the same time so natural about him. Familiar, I'd say, but I've never seen anything like him before.

I have a sudden urge to stare at this man. To study him. Find out what he's made of, so then I could move on with my life and not hold my breath whenever he's around. But my eyes remain fixed on the smudgy letters of the newspaper, never daring to peak a glance in fear that he'd instantly know. He does give off this impression, that he always knows more than you'd like him to and that maybe he even enjoys possessing that sort of power.

It's unnerving and the thought of actually leaving the café crosses my mind several times, but I act against it. I cannot lose to him either. No youngling like him can make Tony Stark so uneasy and queasy that I'd leave my place. No way, no how.

So I stay and silently sip my coffee from my spot, trying not to stare at mystery on legs.

~.~

The days have gotten shorter. Nights became longer and I found myself unable to sleep many times. Sometimes, I'd wake up in the middle of the night to a dark house and pad to the kitchen for a glass. J.A.R.V.I.S. would occasionally scold me, but after all I'd end up on the rooftop, bottle in my hand, barely any thought in my mind. The world is quiet. The city that supposedly never sleeps slowly enters a deadly silence and only the pitter-patter of the rain counts.

Even Pepper's quiet. Her nagging decreased considerably. Sometimes I miss her. Her gentle touch and suave voice were the few things that made me feel like I mattered. But I can't blame her for leaving me. Pepper's always been smart. She knows I'm keeping things from her.

Women she's assumed, because the other option is too terrifying and hard to grasp. Because she, then, would have to admit that there's something too much, something impossible, something science books could not explain because it doesn't exist, something too bizarre about me. I could have told her, but at what cost? Stuff like this never goes well. This is real life, not a novel, and humanity is cruel most of the time. And sometimes it's entitled to be like that.

So she left, but stayed around as a friend because "'God knows what Tony might do without her babysitting".

I find it endearing, but I never linger too much on this thought. It's pointless and to be honest I knew I'd end up like this. Or worse. Her eventually leaving me was the best case scenario when I thought about asking her on a date.

And they ask why I usually have only one night stands.

"Sir, it would not be advisable for you to go on the rooftop right now," J.A.R.V.I.S. says warily but all I do is grin.

"Shut up, Jarv. I do what I want. My house, my rules." I sound a tad bit irritated to me too, but I brush it off anyway.

J.A.R.V.I.S. doesn't say anything in return.

~.~

October is almost gone. It's cold outside. The rain seems to never stop nowadays. When it's not raining, it's just all a dark grey. Nature's dying, I am not. At least, not physically. Inside I'm just as good as dead.

The lab does not keep me entertained lately. So I've developed clean energy and I've made myself a competent AI. So I have a dozen unfinished projects that have the dust casually laying on them. So what?

Maybe I should go for a walk. Maybe sit in Central Park and feed pigeons like an old man. Maybe buy a doughnut on my way there as well as a cup of coffee to go. I could stroll around until night-time came. No one can stop me.

Only that I don't. Go, I mean. What would be the point anyway? This whole large world is not enough to satisfy my needs anymore. So, instead, I wrap a woollen blanket around my shoulder and with a mug filled with mulled wine, I make my way to the rooftop where I spend the rest of the day, despite J.A.R.V.I.S.’ protests.

Time goes on.

~.~

"Tony, you can't go on like this anymore," Pepper's voice is soft and concerned. She stands above me or anyway that's how it feels from my spot on the sofa. I raise an eyebrow at her, but continue to ignore her as I sip my umpteenth cup of mulled wine of today lost somewhere between staring at nothing at all and trying to focus. "Don't pretend you have no idea what I am talking about because we both know you do!" Her voice is firmer.

I shrug. "I don't really." It's all I manage.

"Can you at least look at me?" So I do. 

And I wish I didn't. Her eyes are so full of worry it almost breaks something inside me. I know I worry her. I always did. And I hate it. There are times, like this one, when I wish I never met her. But I did. And now I can't do anything about it. Only lie long enough for her to get sick of it and leave. Yes, that's all I do nowadays.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" I open my mouth to protest, but she quickly starts talking again. "Oh, no,no, no. Anthony Stark," Ouch, "we are going to have this conversation. Now. No buts, no running away anymore." Oh, I find that I don't like this very much. In fact, I don't like it at all. Crap. "We both know something is exponentially wrong with you. Don't even bother to deny it. All I want to know is what."

"Pepper..."

Index raised in the air, her expression becomes fierce. "Don't you Pepper me. You are hiding something. I don't know what but it's something big. You have for a very long time. Don't lie, I am not stupid. At first I thought it was women, and maybe it was that too, but you're still..."

I frown. "Still what?"

"Still this!" She motions to my body with an exasperated voice and an equally exasperated face.

I sigh. “I’ve been _this_ for a very long time, Pep, it’s fine really. Can we drop this now? We’re dropping this.” I get up and pace away from her hoping for some peace and quiet.

“I don’t care if you’ve been this since the dawn of ages. You can’t go on like this anymore. It’s eating me alive watching you wither away like the whole world is resting on your shoulders.” I stop. “I can help, please, just talk to me. Talk to someone. _Anyone,”_ she pleads in a gentler voice now.

“I’m fine.” A smile gracing my lips as I turn to look at her. Her eyes are filled with worry and before she can say anything I leave the room. “I’m fine,” I mutter to myself.

 

 

 


End file.
